The disappointment of a promised hour.
On this, or similar, Philander! thou,
Whose mind was moral, as the preacher’s tongue;
And strong, to wield all science, worth the name;
How often we talk’d down the summer’s sun, 450
And cool’d our passions by the breezy stream!
How often thaw’d and shorten’d winter’s eve,
By conflict kind, that struck out latent truth,
Best found, so sought; to the recluse more coy!
Thoughts disentangle passing o’er the lip;